Ok, before I even begin, I should probably explain the title of this entry. Even for me it's just too obscure not to provide a brief background. When I got to Nice and started strolling around, two things immediately struck me. Yep, you guessed it. White guys patrolling the streets with their young "China dolls" on their arms and, speaking of arms, at least one in 25 people with some sort of arm injury requiring either a sling or cast or other significant bandaging. I still have no idea why so many white guys were strutting about with their Asian g/f's or, perhaps more alarmingly, why so many people were storming around town with substantial arm injuries, but suffice it to say that's what goes down in Nice. I know, nice, right?
Bad puns out of the way, we can begin. The first thing I noticed in Nice (aside from the White/Asian thing and the damaged arms) was the general look of the people. I wrote a note: "the people of Nice are tall, dark, and menacing." This thought could have only extended from the uneasiness I felt from suddenly being able to more or less look people in the eye. In Spain, Portugal, and Morocco I was somewhat taller to significantly taller than everyone else- to the point where I was oft referred to as "the giant." Suddenly, much to my great alarm, along the French Riviera people are 5'10" to 6'2"- right in the eyesight wheelhouse.
After checking into the hostel and shaking off the heebie-jeebies from not being able to see the tops of people's heads, I decided to take a walk around town. Many of the buildings, especially along the coast, display that French Riviera architecture style in which I had sterotypically cast the entire city of Nice in my mind ever since first hearing of it years ago. Somewhat surprisingly, most of the buildings are in that or similar fashion- actually living up to the stereotype. Hotel Negresco was one of the more impressive examples.
The beach itself, however, was quite a bit of a far cry from what I was expecting. I always thought- French Riviera, beautiful white sand beaches, gorgeous young women sunbathing topless in oversized hats, and debonaire young gentlemen peddling umbrellas or cocktails to wanting beachgoers far too important to procure their own shade or libations. Somewhere along the way I must have mixed it up with Ipanema or another exotic locale because this is what the "beach" in Nice actually looks like:
That's right- ROCKS! This beach dominates the hell out of scissors! You can't even really lay down on it. It's not tiny pebbles; I mean these are legitimate fist-sized rocks. But, against all odds, as you can see even this doesn't stop the most avid beachgoer. All along the "beach" are numerous people toughing it out with a towel on the rocks. Perhaps this is how there are so many arm injuries? Much to their astonishment, people attempting to flip over and tan their backs find themselves with a wing damagingly wedged between some rocks. Ok, probably not realistic.
Next I headed to the main park and stumbled upon an impromptu Italian market offering all types of Italian food and drink products with... free samples! Just walking to each tent and having a nibble here and there and suddenly you're stuffed. It was a great prelude to Naples only a handful of days away. One of the more interesting items was the porcetta- basically a whole pig that is gutted, deboned, stuffed, and then roasted. They then, starting at the hind end, slice off pieces all the way up to the head. Sounds weird/gross but it was in fact amazing.
I also found a booth selling homemade pesto and the guy was making up dishes of gnocchi-like pasta (potato based and briefly boiled) tossed in the pesto. It reminded me so much of the amazing meal in Parma last summer that I had to get a bowl. Oh my... so so so good. Damn you Italians and your irresistible food!
Next I swung by the port area which is littered with bars, cafes, and restaurants. It pales a bit in comparison to the grandiose port area of Monaco, but stand alone it is impressive in its own right. Unfortunately I didn't have time to swing in and try some of the local establishments as it was time to return to the hostel and prepare for my day-trip to Monaco (which will be its own entry). That night I hit the grocery store and acquired ingredients to make a SALAD. Something I had been craving for weeks but simply does not exist in Europe in the form I prefer- almost all vegis and maybe just a little bit of cheese or meat. No dressing. My detox day complete, I was ready for bed and Monaco.
Arriving back to Nice from Monaco the following day I swung by the grocery store and acquired a couple bottles of wine, a Bordeaux (obviously) and a Rose (which, served chilled, is extremely popular in the area). I repaired to the terrace of the hotel to continue my afternoon of French wine. After a few minutes several of my fellow hostel-mates appeared on the terrace, one thing led to another, and soon we were all partaking of the wine and having a rowdy good time. It was then unanimously decided that we should go check out the "British" bar in town called Wayne's. On the way I spied the Cathedral which is spectacularly lit up at night.
When we arrived at Wayne's we were informed that the party we were intending to meet up with had gone elsewhere. We followed suit but the new bar was a bit dead for my taste. So, without further prompting, I elected to return to Wayne's solo, having an inexplicable good feeling about the place in my gut. Well, as much as the state of the Nice "beach" was contrary to what I had expected, the Nice party-life was equally contrary. I expected a relatively quiet bar where I'd have a beer or two, maybe meet some Brits or possibly even a local, and then head back to the hostel. Oh how wrong I was.
Wayne's was absolutely kicking. They had a live band throwing around covers of a ton of American alternative rock hits from the 90's and early 00's and the place was PACKED. Oh, and they had Guinness. I was at home. Anyway, the party got to rocking and needless to say it turned out to be a wild night. When the band finally went off and they began to shut the place down around 2am (which was a huge shock to me coming from Spain where they party until dawn), guess who I ran (literally) right into? My friends from Barcelona! After shaking the beer off my feet- tiger pose revisited!
By this time they herded us out the doors I was a bit blustered by the wine and Guinness and so it was time to call it a night. My friends from Barca and I walked back toward their hostel which was only a few blocks from mine and I crashed hard for a much deserved sleep. Nice, you surprised me in many ways. I thought of you as a mere stop-over town but it's clear to me now you are a destination. Je t'aime. I will definitely return and give you the time and attention so clearly due.
Bonus photo, Place Masséna lit up at night. Love the glowing statues of people in various positions on the poles... whaa? I don't understand...
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